


i, arishok

by foundCarcosa



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Canon, Gen, Qun, Qunari, Qunlat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2532635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A report from Arishok to Par Vollen -- an alternative to the brutish canon of Act II and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i, arishok

**Author's Note:**

> Ashtalan = Truth-Seeker (from the canon words "ash" meaning "to seek" and "talan" meaning "truth")  
> Sataakost = Those Who Create Peaceful Things (from the canon words "sataareth" meaning "that which upholds" and "kost" meaning "peace")

I, Arishok, have not seen many things that were not of the Qun. I am leader, but before me goeth the Beresaad, Those Who Reach Ahead, Qunari called Sten and Ashaad and Kithshok, and it is they who interact with the world at large and return to me, to interpret all they have seen and heard, with simple words, words I understand. I am not possessed of subpar intelligence; I am possessed of all I need to know as Arishok. So I believed.

I, Arishok, perched at the edge of the city called Kirkwall, a city of lost imekari led by lost imekari, marred by senseless violence and profound instability. I had one mission. I let myself become blinded, let my eyes and heart stray from my mission, from my purpose. I… languished, I admit, and I struggled. The months turned into years. The tome seemed lost to me. All seemed lost. I was… compromised.

I, Arishok, allowed wrath to corrupt me. I am a war leader. These bas do not understand the true nature of war. They assume that it is their fleeting and baseless fury that leads to war, that it is the loudest and most fearsome generals that are victorious. I fed their groundless fears with my own. I ranted and I threatened. I posted many guards on the perimeter of the compound granted to us, painted and armed. I perched at the edge of the city called Kirkwall like a vulture, and was treated accordingly.

I, Arishok, met Jezebel Hawke. She came unarmed into the compound. She stood before me and spoke as a leader to another. In the Tome of Koslun there is a line oft-overlooked by bas who style themselves “scholars” of the Qun: _"A purposeful thing is not diminished by another purposeful thing, nor does a purposeful thing become less productive in the meeting of another; but two purposeful things will always seek synergy, and find it, and accomplish much and more."_ It is synergy I felt when speaking with Jezebel Hawke, who was not Qunari, but whose heart and mouth spoke truth nevertheless.

I, Arishok, allowed temperance back into myself. I meditated, and I recalled my teachings. When Ashaad returned to the compound with the viddathari Saemus Dumar, I listened to the boy speak, and again heard truth. When Jezebel Hawke came to the compound with the Tome of Koslun in her arms, I did not demand that the thief pay. The thievery had purpose. It had led me to Kirkwall.

I, Arishok, did not send warriors into Kirkwall. I went down into Kirkwall instead, and though the bas squealed and hissed and fled from me like dathrasi, I accepted this as my punishment, and sought the kabethari who did not run, instead. Jezebel Hawke accepted purpose as my guide in the labyrinthine city, as a bridge, as Ashtalan. And I humbled myself, and I learnt.

I, Arishok, did note the pleas of the elves in their Alienage. I heard it, in the desperate violence of the imekari and in the sorrowful silence of the mothers. I saw it, in the squalor, but also in the beauty of the large tree they call Vhenadahl, the tree they tend to even as the Alienage grows pale and haggard around it. The elves are ignored at best by the rest of Kirkwall, and abused at worst. I asked of Jezebel Hawke, “These people are not purposeless. Why are they denied their right to fulfill purpose?” But that was not a question that Ashtalan could answer. Not yet.

I, Arishok, was surrounded in Darktown. The discarded, the forgotten, those who were strong of mind but infirm of body. They asked me questions. They wept and pleaded, used to being turned away. “I cannot fight. I cannot build. My words are not good. What use am I to anyone?” I asked, “Who are you?” They gave me names, fragments of identities, but they did not understand what I ask. There was one of their number who cannot walk, and he apologised for his existence. I saw paper, charcoal, next to him. I pointed to it. “What do you make?” He made art from words, even though it does not bring him currency, even though sometimes he is too hungry to think. I pointed to it again. “That which you use are the tools of your soul. That which you create is the work of your heart. What you do is who you are.” I was asked, “But what use can I be to the Qunari? All they do is fight.”

I, Arishok, brought the word-artist to the compound, to where the Sataakost inscribed in their tomes with coloured inks and elaborate design, to bring peace to the minds and hearts of soldiers far from home. I brought him to the Karasten who commanded and fought with one arm. I opened the Tome of Koslun, and bade him read. And he knew that a body did not have to be typical to be whole and purposeful, and that a society requires much and more than war-makers.

I, Arishok, did not march on Kirkwall. Nor did I cease to be Arishok. There are many kinds of wars, and not all of them are fought the same. Jezebel Hawke is not a warrior, but she is winning. Viscount Dumar has not driven us from Kirkwall. Viddathari continue to come to us, and we are allowed to judge them accordingly, whatever their crimes may have been in their former lives. The compound has grown, beyond its bounds. Jezebel Hawke tells me there is discussion of the allotting of land near Sundermount, for Kirkwall’s Qunari.

Kirkwall’s Qunari.

It is not a conquest. We are putting down roots, and growing, organically. It is… a new thing.  
Change, too, is purpose. The world is changing. It is only appropriate — it is only _imperative_ that we do, as well.

I, Arishok, do dictate these words to Rian of the Sataakost, in the interest of the preservation of Qunari history. May these words find their way to Par Vollen in my stead. Anaan esaam Qun.

_Meravas._


End file.
